Protection
by RPGgirl514
Summary: The things he carries protect him, even as he protects Robin. A series of Much-centric drabbles.
1. Saint Christopher Protect Us

It is commonplace enough among the devout, a Saint Christopher medal. A plain disc of silver, tarnished by the heat and salt of his skin and so worn by anxious fingers the face of the saint is hardly recognizable. Much wears the medal under his tunic, closest to his heart because although she no longer draws breath, that is where his mother lives still.

It gets him through sleepless nights in the Holy land, listening to good men bleeding out in the sand, clutching it so hard the face of it was etched into his palm for hours later. It gets him through nights afterward, too, when he starts awake from nightmares that throw him right back to Acre, the scent of blood and sand and death sharp in his nostrils. The silver in his palm remains constant.

She gives it to him when he's very small, when they first travel to Nottingham. He stills remembers her kneeling before him, the metal shining and freshly polished, catching the sunlight upon its face. She loops the chain around his neck. It's so long the pendant falls nearly to his belly button. "Saint Christopher watches over travelers and little boys," she says, "so you'll never walk alone."

Later, after Robin is lost to them all, Much clings to these words more than ever because he feels so very alone.


	2. Buckler

If there is one thing Much treasures above all else (besides Robin, of course), it's his shield. He is amazed it survived the war in the Holy Land unscathed, but then, it's a miracle that he and Robin made it out of there either.

Robin commissions it for Much's eighteenth birthday, shortly before they will leave for the Holy Land. Robin is the only lord Much knows who would spend such a fortune on a servant, let alone remember a servant's birthday. Much is moved nearly to tears when his master presents the buckler to him. For once, he is stricken speechless, which Robin says, laughing, is a feat in itself. Fascinated by the bold colors, Much traces the intricate design upon the shield's round face.

"It's a Celtic protection symbol," Robin explains. "The knots are strongest where they intersect."

"Like us?" Much says.

Robin graces him with that crooked little grin. Much will do anything for him, anything at all, for another glimpse of that grin. Their return to Nottingham makes them outlaws, but that is only the beginning. The stakes are even higher now than they had been in the Holy Land. It is the price one pays for loyalty to Robin Hood. Much's shield has paid that price today.

"I ought to charge the Sheriff a tax for this," Much grumbles as he yanks another arrowhead out of his shield. "Ought to march right through the gates of Nottingham and take the gold from his coffers."

Robin shoots him a bemused look across the fire.

"The inlay is damaged!" Much's outrage is too much for Robin, and he laughs.

"It's better than the alternative, isn't it?" Robin said. "You could be picking arrows out of me instead."

Much's hands still over the delicate knotwork. "That's not funny, Robin. Not funny at all."

Robin is an insensitive prat sometimes, but he is not cruel. His smile fades. "I know. Thank you."

"That's my job, isn't it? To save your sorry neck when you get it into trouble?"

"Not your job anymore, Much. I released you."

"My honor, then." The camp is quiet save for the crackling of the fire. Their fellows are elsewhere, otherwise Much might not have said what he does next. "I'd do it again, you know."

"I know."


	3. Five and Thursday

The hamsa charm shares a chain with his mother's Saint Christopher medal. It's fitting that they are both gifts bestowed upon him by the strongest women he's ever known. The hamsa is as foreign to the young Englishman as it is comforting. It's a reminder of happy moments stolen in the midst of a war they cannot hope to win. Everytime he traces the fine filigree of the upside-down hand, Much thinks of Djaq and Will and the last time he saw them. He hopes they are happy; he knows deep in his bones if anyone deserves happiness it is the two of them. The hamsa is just a symbol of the love and friendship he learned from them.

Djaq threads the hamsa on a short leather thong and gives it to him without ceremony. It's as blunt and straightforward as she is. Much feels tears prickle the back of his throat. He's going to miss her so.

Djaq's hand feels so small on his shoulder. "We have a saying in Arabic," she says. " _Khamsa wa-khamis._ It means 'five and Thursday,' symbols of good fortune. It wards off the evil eye."

"But I'm Christian," Much protests. "I don't believe in the evil eye."

She smiles, a little sadly, reminded of the first conversation they ever had. "Then for you, let it mean good luck, Much. I believe you'll need it."

They depart for England on a Thursday. Much feels hopeful - in spite of everything they have lost, there is still joy and friendship in the world, a chance for redemption, and love that will lay down its life for a friend. These are things worth dying for. But for now they are worth living for.


	4. Locksley Crest

Much is proud to have Robin's mark on him, because he belongs with Robin. This talisman he wears outside his clothes, for all to see, so they will know who he is. It is a tangible reminder of what following Robin means. It means giving up his lodge at Bonchurch, forgoing a chance at wedded bliss with Eve, leaving behind a full belly and feather beds for overcooked pheasant and sleeping on the hard forest floor. Much knows, as much as he's given up, Robin has given up far more. But Robin's tag binds them together, in outlawry and brotherhood. They are a family now, and they protect each other, as surely as the mother who gave her son a Saint Christopher medal to protect him.

Some nights, as he stares into the fire, Much worries the stiff leather with his thumb as he wonders how long they can continue to cheat death and the Sheriff.

"You'll rub that down to nothing if you keep on like that," Allan says. Much looks over at him, annoyed.

"What I do with my things is none of your concern," much says stiffly. Allan shrugs. The animosity between them is subtle, buried under layers of sharpened humor and polite disdain. Much doesn't care for Allan's flippant attitude, and Allan thinks Much is too loyal to a man who will always take him for granted.

"Right then, spit it out," Allan says.

"What?"

"You're worried about something. Distracted men don't live long, and neither do their friends. I'd rather die later than sooner, so get on with it."

"Oh, and I suppose we should all show off and joke about the fact that the Sheriff of Nottingham won't stop until he sees us all hang?"

"It's a fair bit more productive than worrying about what the Sheriff thinks, eh? Maybe that's why Robin brought us all out here, huh? To bait him?"

"You shut up about Robin; he wouldn't do that to us!"

"No? Then why don't you ask him what his plan is? Because I'd bet you the Sheriff's fur cape that Robin doesn't have one!"

Much launches himself at Allan. They scuffle and roll about in the loam like schoolboys, their faces dirty and scraped. Much lands a hard blow to Allan's nose before taking a fist to his eye. He sees stars. Someone hauls him by the armpits and pulls him bodily away from Allan, still swinging blindly.

Much hears Robin's explosive voice and sees his frown looming as his vision clears. "What is going on?" Robin glares at them both in turn. "Much? Allan?"

The two combatants share a glance, and much sees the challenge in Allan's eyes. _Go on. Ask him._

But Much doesn't. He would rather not know - or perhaps he knows already, and wishes he didn't.

"Go to bed, all of you," Robin commands. "We'll talk about this in the morning."

Much and Allan exchange a last mutinous glare and turn to leave.

"Wait," Robin says. He scoops up something from the ground. Much and Allan's tags - they've come off during the struggle. They are tangled together, and Robin takes a moment to untangle them before handing them back to their respective owners.

"No more fighting," he says, as if to be stern, but he only sounds tired. "We're all in this together."

Their lives are tethered to each other's as surely as Much and Allan's tags. It's a heavy thought that mulls Much into a restless sleep, and keeps Allan awake far longer than it should.

When the time comes, Robin returns Will's tag to him, its role complete as a prop in a farce. Allan's, though, he tosses away into the brush as easily as Allan had thrown away their friendship. Robin walks away, back towards the camp, and doesn't look back.

Much does, though. He remembers that moment when Allan returns to them, and he's inclined to run the traitorous rat through to protect Robin. He doesn't deserve his tag back now, and he is not given another until the day he dies, in service to Robin.

Later Much wears Robin's mark as a tribute to his best friend. He tucks it under his tunic at first, because his grief is still too raw and all-consuming to share with the world. It takes months before he is able to look upon it again without feeling the sharp wound of Robin's death tear open again. A year passes, and he is able to wear the tag with pride once more. He carries on Robin's work along with Archer, the family Robin didn't know he had, and Tuck and Kate and John, the family that Robin chose for himself. Much holds onto Robin's tag, as do they all, and together they learn how to let him go.


End file.
